


Three Men Walk Into a Bar...

by NobleZeda



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Jokes, Bounty Hunters, Inspired Work, M/M, and one very bad pun, bar scuffles, warning: gross vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobleZeda/pseuds/NobleZeda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, so there are three men sitting in a pub. Or a bar. Wait, no, they walk into it. Right, these three blokes walk into a bar and sit next to each other at the counter. One of them is an assassin, another is a bounty hunter, and the third is his bounty. The assassin turns to the bounty hunter like the smarmy twat he is. He hasn't liked the bounty hunter up until recently, and the bounty hunter isn't even really a bounty hunter anymore, not to mention his bounty is his boyfriend...</p><p>"Damn it, wait, no, I've smegged it, let me start over. So an assassin, a bounty hunter, and his bounty walk into a bar..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Men Walk Into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hunting Free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/984319) by [BloodstainedBlonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodstainedBlonde/pseuds/BloodstainedBlonde). 



> Okay, before you read this make sure you read Hunting Free by BloodstainedBlonde first ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/984319?view_full_work=true ) bc, besides the fact that its rly fuckin good, its obvs the actual thing and im just a loser with an overactive imagination and an inability to keep ideas to myself
> 
> its like fanfiction of fanfiction

Mellowed out, happily tranquil, the bar applauded as the lights came up. The woman with the polished guitar and lulling voice stood from her stool and departed the small stage. She kept her head down, but she was smiling.

"Oi. Peeky-boo, Micool." Gavin nudged his finger into Michael's shoulder. His fingernails were almost able to pass as normal, three months after losing them. Michael figured that as soon as it was unnoticeable, he could forgive himself for that particular dark spot on his debt to Gavin. On a side that could possibly be viewed as bright, he also had a new scar stretched from his eye to cheek that could somewhat mask his identity from prying eyes. The last few months had been spent with no short amount of time dedicated to teaching Gavin on how to keep his head down.

Michael made eye contact with Gavin, who was sat on his left, to show that he was listening. Ray was on his right, dutifully pretending not to notice. He was also neglecting the whiskey Michael had ordered in triple, his fingers pressed over his mouth as he leaned on his hand nonchalantly.

"My boi," Gavin murmured, eyes glazed but still adamantly attempting to look focused. "I have a joke for you."

Michael raised both eyebrows, smiling prematurely. "You have a joke for me? Okay, go ahead."

Gavin beamed at the permission. "Okay, so there are three men sitting in a pub. Or a bar. Wait, no, they walk into it. Right, these three blokes walk into a bar and sit next to each other at the counter. The bar," he corrected, underneath a belch, shaking his head. "One of them is an assassin, another is a bounty hunter, and the third is his bounty. The assassin turns to the bounty hunter like the smarmy twat he is. He hasn't liked the bounty hunter up until recently, and the bounty hunter isn't even really a bounty hunter anymore, not to mention his bounty is his boyfriend. Damn it, wait, no, I've smegged it, let me start over. So an assassin, a bounty hunter, and his bounty walk into a bar..."

Michael huffed out of his nose in amusement. Ray looked over at the two of them.

"Should we shut him up before he blows our cover and we have to go  _even further_ underground?" Ray asked, but he was almost grinning. Gavin pawed at Michael's shoulder and tried to stumble through a second round of set-up for his fabricated joke.

"...the bounty... the bounty,  _he_  looks at the  _assassin_ and he says..."

But there, Gavin paused, the alcohol momentarily overcoming him. He furrowed his brow as his brain wrestled for control, then split into a smile as he temporarily remastered it.

At this point, Ray was paying full attention. "...Yes?" he drawled. Gavin's gaze snapped from Michael to him.

"And he asks the assassin why they can't be bev buddies..." Gavin pouted. Michael had a feeling that wasn't the original joke, if Gavin's mind had ever fully constructed it in the first place.

Ray smiled politely. "Vav," he said sweetly. "I could bend your ear for a week about all the reasons a  _master assassin_ should never be caught under the influence of alcohol, and why  _specifically I_ should go nowhere near this piss-water, given our situation, but I feel like it's enough to reiterate all of the hundreds of times I have told you - tonight - that I don't drink. Because I don't like it. At all."

Gavin's pout deepened, and Ray sighed. Michael, caught in the middle of it, knew that it would be no use to go to either of their aid - Ray didn't actually care, and Gavin was too much of an idiot un-intoxicated to get the picture. Add alcohol to the equation, and Michael could safely say the only time Gavin wasn't completely hopeless was when he was one hundred percent sober.

"Michael, will you buy me another?" Gavin slurred. He slumped onto the table in a pile of drunkenness and pushed his face into Michael's abdomen. Michael rolled his eyes.

"You're fucking drunk off your ass already, idiot. I'm not buying you shit for the rest of the night," Michael said. He pushed his left hand into Gavin's hair so that he held him like a cradle. Gavin hummed, which had as much likelihood at being an expression of affection as it did at being an attempt to alert Michael of imminent suffocation.

Gavin resurfaced, eyes closed but mouth wide open in speech. "I love you, Michael."

Michael's playful smile softened into something much more affectionate. "I love you, too, Gav."

Gavin shook his head like Michael wasn't quite getting it, and he opened his eyes, so that he might stare deeply into Michael's. The fact that he looked drunk off his ass dampened the gesture only slightly. "No, I mean, I  _really_ love you, Michael. I  _looooooove_ you. Like,  _love_ , love. I  _love_ you, yeah?  _You_. Like, if someone ever asks me, 'h-hey! Gavin! Who do you love?' I'll look 'em dead in the eye, an' I'll say, 'Michael Jones is who I love' because I love  _you_. More than I love anybody else. I will never love anybody more than I love you, Mich- ooh, Ray!" _  
_

Gavin's eyes lit up with delight and he held his arms up in surprise. Ray had slid his untouched whiskey across the bar top, a silent plea for Gavin to just shut up. Michael could read the assassin's thoughts quite clearly in his face.  _Please, dear God, let this be the last one he needs before he passes out and ends all of our suffering_.

Michael didn't have the heart to think the same thing with any real vigor, because as annoying as Gavin could possibly get, this was also their first proper night in public since the escape. Sue him if he wanted his boyfriend to enjoy it. As Gavin downed the drink, Michael patted his side and muttered, "Love you double that, you dork," not really intending for Gavin to hear. That didn't mean Ray was deaf. He bent away from Michael and snickered. Michael rapped him on the back of his head with his knuckles.

Gavin set the empty glass against the wood of the bar with a dull, reverberating thump and slumped back onto his chair, looking out at the tables housing a smattering of customers, each with varying levels of sobriety. He felt comfortably foggy, but his permission from Michael to unwind was what was really making him let go. He reached to the side and gripped Michael's jacket softly. He himself was wearing the jacket Michael had gotten for him during their one day of normalcy at the festival. He often wondered if Michael had envisioned, for one second as Gavin had, a moment where Gavin was gone and Michael was holding the jacket, alone, living with it all. Blundering as he usually was, even Gavin had enough tact to realize that he shouldn't ask.

Besides, all that was behind them now. Here was Gavin, three months after his supposed execution date, celebrating with drinks between the two people in the world he still actively called his friends. Well, one of his friends was drinking. Still, the sentiment was true.

"Top you fellas off?" came a hesitant voice behind him. Gavin turned around again. The bartender was there, her orange hair graying, eyes small and swiveling around nervously. Gavin beamed at the opportunity.

"Nothing else for us, thanks," Michael cut off, because he knew exactly where Gavin's train of thought would be headed. Gavin deflated but didn't complain.

"Sure, sure..." The bartender looked uncertain, and as a result hovered awkwardly on the other end of the bar.

Ray puckered his lips, then took the bait. "Can we... help you?" From the corner of his eye, Michael saw Ray's hand tighten on the hem of his sleeve. He was sure that the occasion didn't call for a concealed dagger, but he also would never be first in line to physically deter Ray's judgment.

The simple prod was all it took for the bartender to spill. She leaned over the counter so that she was practically touching foreheads with Michael.

"Did I hear you boys talk of knowing a bounty hunter around here?"

Michael's mouth parted slightly as his chest seemed to lose all air. Somehow, his voice came out even. "No, not anymore. Sorry." Case closed.

"Because if you did, I might have a proposition for such a man," she continued. Michael took a shallow breath.

"Can't help," he insisted. The woman looked unconvinced. Michael's heart started hammering. He forced himself to give a small, polite smile. The woman raised her eyebrows.

"You're not Michael Jones, then? Not like it says on your tab?" She gave him a knowing look, but Michael didn't like it. She didn't have a trustworthy appearance, and besides, he didn't do that anymore. First and foremost, there was nowhere for him to report back to.

Michael bit the corner of his mouth. "It's a common name," he said simply. He knew that his bounty record had gleaned him quite the reputation, but he had moved far out enough in hopes that some of the dirtier, more recent parts might not have made it out just yet. Apparently, he was right.

"Heard you went missing," the bartender said.

Ray leaned over the bar, intercepting her interrogation. "Listen, lady, my friend here said that he's not who you're looking f-"

"Don't you touch me, sir, you seat yourself nice and pretty back on the other end of this bar." The bartender's eyes showed no trace of her previous submissive nature. They were hard and desperate, like a caged animal making a bid for freedom. Ray's mouth twitched lightly, and Michael could feel the reluctance radiating off of him as he complied. He could see that it was only from the desire to keep from starting a scene. That didn't stop Ray from fully slipping the knife from its concealment and gripping it tightly. Michael appreciated that assassins didn't take too complacently to being ordered around.

"Mic..." Gavin hiccuped. Michael turned to him. 

"So, you  _are_  the bounty hunter?" the bartender pressed. Michael stared at her, and he tried to put everything that he had felt since the moment he had met Gavin into his gaze. He was not going back into that world. He was not endangering the man he'd sworn with his life to protect. He was  _not_ going to be pushed around by some sleazy, manipulative ass in a half-apron because she had a bit of bloodlust.

"I don't do that anymore," he spat, almost literally. He was still halfway through a pint, with a good mind to knock it the fuck over and drag Gavin's plastered ass out of there, leave Ray to let loose.

"I have money," the bartender said, as though that might persuade Michael to abandon the only thing ever to make him feel like he had sense. "Lots."

"And you know what I don't have? Patience. Not available. Not interested. Not happening," Michael said sharply. "We'll pay our tab and leave."

"It's on the house," the bartender offered, but she sounded like Ray's knife was pressed up against her throat. Michael didn't feel guilty for a second.

"That's generous," he lied. He was beginning to regret ever coming out of hiding. But then, how could he have possibly known when too soon was? Would it ever be okay? Maybe the world only felt extra dangerous because Michael was spending every second on high alert, Gavin's protection his priority.

"We're on our way out, then," Ray interjected. His fingers were flexing over the grip of his blade, just underneath the table. Michael had never wanted more for him to use it.

"Mic..." Gavin repeated. Michael looked over at him with a tense, "What?"

"Think I'm gonna be..." Then, he doubled over and heaved most of their celebratory delight onto the wooden floor. Every head in the place turned, and Michael desired nothing more than to go back in time, punch his past self in the face, and insist that they spend the night on a walk instead. 

"Damn it," Michael cursed. He put a hand between Gavin's shoulder blades and the other on his shoulder. There was vomit on the both of their shoes and the knee of Gavin's jeans.

"Dude, gross," Ray muttered.

Sometimes, Michael forgot that he had the strongest stomach of their trio. He was actually feeling a grim satisfaction at the prospect of the bartender cleaning that up. She deserved it, anyway.

The fact that he was throwing up only seemed to make Gavin more disgusted, and it turned into a nasty cycle of vomit-inducing-vomit. Eventually, Michael had to drag the man away from the bar and into the bathroom. He leaned against the wall as Gavin let loose into the toilet. Ray was standing guard outside.

"Michael, I feel reeaaally-" -The sounds of heaving and weak splashes- "-auuhhh, really awful. I mean it I-"

"Don't try to talk too much, baby," Michael said, over another round. "Just let nature take its course. Nothing else to do."

Mostly, it was now just some intense gagging and a couple of stray streams. Still, Michael would just make sure they didn't flush. Maybe if it went undiscovered for long enough, they could dole out some serious headaches.

"Michael, I - hic - I don't like this. I think we should go home." Gavin was hugging the toilet like a long-lost sibling. He didn't expect to hear Michael's bullet-like laughter ripping through the room.

" _Well_ , generally when you start losing your guts after a night of drinking,  _yeah_ , that means it's time to pack it in," Michael said through his chuckles. He knew he shouldn't be laughing because it would make Gavin extremely self-conscious, but he also couldn't help it; he needed some sort of stress relief after the heckle he'd just received. 

Ray peaked his head in. "Restless crowd out here," he informed them. "We almost ready to head out?"

"It's all up to Gav here," Michael said.

Gavin gave a loud hurl in response, though nothing came out.

"You want some water, buddy?" Ray asked.

Gavin shook his head but didn't elaborate.

"Alright, well what do you want, how do we help?" Ray asked. Gavin gave an indecipherable gurgle. "Come again?" Another mumble.

"Something flavored," Michael translated. "What the fuck is fucking flavored in a goddamn bar? You're sure as hell not putting any more alcohol in your mouth. Just have some water."

Gavin shook his head again.

"Gavin, it'll rinse the taste out of your mouth," Michael insisted.

Gavin shook his head. "It'll just make me taste it more!" he whined. "Then, I'll just throw it all back out again."

Michael sighed. "You've got the taste it your mouth  _right now_. Just get some water, swish for a minute, and spit it out," he said wearily.

Gavin gave a harsh cough and shook his head. "Something flavored," he repeated.

"I love you, Gav, but we need to get out of here. Please, just stick your mouth in the sink and spit it out," Michael pleaded. He could hear the stirring of the bar outside of the door. Ray was half in the room, half hanging out the door, face calm but eyes alert.

"We are seriously overstaying our welcome," he added tersely.

"What are the chances you could take them all out in the time it takes for Gavin to toughen up?" Michael joked. It seemed to fly right over Ray's head.

"Very high. I rarely kill for free, but I would also kill for _Free_." He grinned and pointed at Gavin, then continued, "But, I think we should avoid going straight for killing everyone. We've only just barely begun to adopt a low profile."

"Alright, just keep them out for a second," Michael ordered. "I'll talk to Can't-Hold-His-Liquor over here."

Ray nodded and breezed out the door. It gave a small click, and Gavin and Michael were alone. Michael pushed off of the wall with his hip and took two steps toward his hunched-over boyfriend. He put one hand lightly on his shoulder, the other he slid into Gavin's hair. "Hey, my boi, you doin' okay?"

Gavin shook his head and retched. Again, nothing came out.

"You know why I'm so anxious to get out of here, right? It's not just me being mean," Michael said softly.

Gavin nodded. "Obviously," he said, but in his suffering state, it sounded more like a growl.

"Well, then I promise you that if you can stick it out for one minute while we make our escape, you can throw up as much as you want and pass out on our toilet at home," Michael offered, tone nurturing. Gavin gave a halfhearted laugh.

"If I die from choking on vom water, I'll be so mad at you," he threatened.

"If you die from choking on vom water, I will die from choking on my own laughter," Michael said. He vehemently prohibited himself from thinking further on the subject of Gavin's death. That was long in the past, even if it still left a twinge of residual pain. They were easily past the time-allotment for joking about it. Easily. ...Easily.

"Good to know we'll be going out together, then," Gavin said, then nodded his assent to be pulled toward the sink. He stuck his mouth under the faucet even though it looked like that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. Michael turned the tap, and Gavin wrenched his head back. It was a miracle that he didn't bang it on anything and knock himself out.

Michael jerked the tap off and reached out to help, heart hammering, until he realized Gavin was signaling to him that, while it was the most unpleasant thing he could imagine, he was okay. After a quick second, he hung his head back over the sink and spat with all of his might. The water sprayed drops onto the dingy mirror hanging on the wall. Gavin gave an emphatic shout of distaste, then spat once more for good measure.

"This night is not turning out to be what I thought it would be," he said, nose scrunched, which effectively wrinkled his entire face. Michael gave a small smile to humor him.

Ray ducked his head in once more, and in the same moment, a glass bottle shot through the room and smashed against the wall. Michael's body reacted instinctively, and he fell into a defensive stance. Ray didn't look like the occurrence even made his top ten troubles of the moment.

"We've got problems out here," he trilled, making an exaggerated frown of worry. Michael patted Gavin's back bracingly.

"Not in here. Grab a chair and let's bust the window," he said. Gavin stood up, hiccuped, and blinked watery eyes. He gave a small smile, though he looked like he would rather be in any other situation. 

"A chair?" Ray questioned.

"To barricade the door, dumbass," Michael explained. He had only recently become okay with treating Ray like he would any of his other friends. They had had too much of a rocky start for it to be very comfortable for a while. He still felt a little cautious, ready to step back into his lane if needed.

"Ohhh," Ray muttered thoughtfully, then ducked out the door, only to return a moment later with a bar stool, which he instantly propped underneath the doorknob. There were no sounds of intruders as of yet, but that was sure to change soon.

Michael pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around his hand. The window wasn't large, and it was definitely higher up than he would he preferred, but the act was still manageable. He didn't allow pause for thought as he wound his arm back and punched it forward. The glass shattered brilliantly at contact, and Michael covered his face with his elbow as the shards scattered and fell. As soon as it settled, he stuck his hand back into the pane and swept the pieces from the area. When he was satisfied, he pulled his arm back, unwound his jacket, and violently shook it. A few small, shining pieces glinted in the room's light as they fell to the floor. Michael shoved his jacket back on.

"I'll go last," Ray offered. Michael had a feeling he would be performing a move similar to when they had hopped the fence together.

"Alright, I'll go first," Gavin suggested.

"No, I will," Michael said. "That way, once I'm out, you have protection on either side of the wall until you can get through."

"Solid plan," Ray agreed.

Gavin nodded. "One foot each?" he asked Ray.

Ray shrugged in compliance, so Michael hit his shoes against the wall to rid them of glass and stepped into their palms. They boosted him up, not without difficulty, and Michael squirmed his way through. He focused on the mission at hand, on keeping Gavin safe, and he was out of the window before he could start panting at the small space. He caught his sleeve on a shard of glass and preoccupied himself on pulling it out and discarding it on the street's alley. His breathing leveled and he looked back at the window.

Gavin was making his way through with much more of both grace and ease. He latched his palms onto the outside frame and pushed himself out with his elbows. It was a good thing Michael had excellent reflexes, otherwise Gavin would have eaten the ground hard. As such, Gavin landed in Michael's arms quite safely. And, well, Michael was too much of a sap to not take the opportunity to kiss him.

It was a quick kiss, but by the time they pulled apart, Ray had still beaten them. He was on his feet beside them, checking himself for glass and muttering, "That's cute and gross and all, but we've got more pressing matters on the agenda. Namely: escaping."

Michael rolled his eyes amicably and set Gavin down on his feet. "Time to run?" Maybe a few more weeks settling into a quiet life couldn't hurt.

Ray and Gavin looked at each other, then at him. "Time to run," they agreed. Ray furrowed his eyebrows at the coincidence, then disregarded it and took off running. He led the way, Michael and Gavin trailing behind.

It seemed that a lot of Michael's life had developed into running. It was kind of exhilarating, he thought, as he grabbed Gavin's hand. And really, he didn't mind all that much.

**Author's Note:**

> so... this involved a lot more throwing up than i initially planned????? sorry if that grosses u out
> 
> anyway, i hope u liked it and uhh thats about it i guess for me tonight. its 3 am i dont know what i was thinking and i still have to proofread it again before i go to bed but by the time you read this thats already happened man time travel
> 
> shit fuck again sorry its 3 am


End file.
